


but oh, if it was only so easy to hold your hand

by ToadstoolDictators



Category: Super Mario Bros. (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, Vietnam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToadstoolDictators/pseuds/ToadstoolDictators
Relationships: daisy/birdo, luigi/bowser, snifit/blooper
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Enter Birdo

Hi! My name is Birdo. Im a strange creature w a big face hole that shoots eggs, and Im a lesbiane. I live in the Mushroom kingdom, which is a really cool place with lots of pipes and gombas and these stupid looking creatures called Sniffits (AN: this is a self-insert character) who shot balls of lead. Princess peach, who is named after a fruit I think, is the ruler of the mushroom kingdom, except she died so her friend daisy, who is named after a fruit I think, was taking control of the throne. Peach died b/cuz Bowser junior killed her accidentally, but I don’t think it was an accident.

  
Daisy is really pretty. She has long ginger hair that looks like something out of a picture. Her pretty fingers are beautiful and delicate, and she wears white gloves. She likes to wearing blue eye shadow but recently she started wearing brown (AN: it suits her complexion better). She wore a big puffy dress that is orange and giant. Her eyes are big. She has ears. People think she is going to have been married to Luigi, but Luigi is gay and he and Bowser are secretly dating.

  
Mario is a dictator, and he is really scary and hairy. He screams at toads most of the time and he even killed them when they don’t do what he wants even if they have children! He banished the sniffits from the kingdom and also the gombas. Mario and Daisy fight with broadswords on top of the castle every day but nobody is winning yet. I cheer for daisy in the morning, and I wear my big bow that is red and bow-shaped and sometimes I wear a sparkly pink one but I don’t want to be distracting daisy so I don’t usually. I have a crush on daisy.

  
I live with sniffitts in an enchanted valley (they are all boys but I am a lesbiane so ew not like that) that has sparkly things and lots of pretty trees that are tall and thick. I was walking with the sniffits when I heard a scream. When I ran to find what it was, I saw Luigi!

  
“Luigi! What’s wrong.” I shouted loudly.

“Birdoe? What are u doing here?” He said prissily.

  
“I live her you morone!” I shouted. Then I walked away.  
-xxnocturnemeadowxx


	2. Enter Luigi

_“Princess Louise,” Mario seethed. His words hissed through his teeth. “May I see you in the parlor?”_

A little context:

  
Once Luigi had discovered his hidden talent for painting his face and curling his hair, it wasn’t long before he began ruminating over the possibility of mischief. Now, Luigi was a good young man, who said “please” and “thank you,” and brushed his teeth before bed and never told lies; but that sort of lifestyle had made others happy (mother, father, and even Mario, to name a few) and left him lacking a certain something.

  
So he kept his hobbies to himself at first, a slice of happiness cut only for himself to enjoy. The nights were his, too. Luigi would work with just candlelight trying to get his hair just so; and he imagined what he might look like in a big, emerald green ballgown, just gaudy enough to keep himself the center of attention. Alone in his corner of the castle, in his big stately room, he thought of the troubles he could cause. No real troubles, nothing unbecoming of a prince(ss) of the Mushroom Kingdom.

  
This resulted in a lot of thinking, ruminating, mulling over the ways his penchant for a little makeup could wreak havoc on the royal inhabitants of the castle. A particular satisfying image of Mario squirming with rage flashed in his mind. It wasn’t until the butler brought a special announcement that Luigi got his wonderful, marvelous, terrible idea.

  
“Master Luigi. Your mother and father would like to inform you that King and Queen Snifit will be visiting the Kingdom of Brooklyn a fortnight from tomorrow,” The Butler said. Luigi didn’t look up. “You will be expected at dinner.”

  
As soon as the Butler shut the door, Luigi began planning. He spent the next two weeks pilfering needles and thread from the servants’ quarters, mixing colors and prepping his mustache (his pride and joy) for its removal. The most difficult of these tasks was to swipe a pair of diamond earrings from his mother’s jewelry box; he excused himself from breakfast fifteen minutes early and stole into the Queen of Brooklyn’s chambers. The earrings were thin and elegant: they dangled just below his jawline. He spent the entire night before the party with an apple slice behind his earlobe, a pin in his right hand, and a blanket corner clenched between his teeth. When the maid asked, Luigi told her he had a nosebleed the night before, please don’t worry too much about the stains.

  
Lastly, he removed from his closet a hideous, fur-lined gown Aunt Birdo (the only person with whom Luigi could truly confide) had given him. It was one of his pet projects: but tonight, tonight, he would be transforming the clunky dress into something far more elegant.

  
The work was endless and exhausting—the excuses he had to invent, even more so. But aside from his now over-sensitive earlobes, Luigi was more than prepared for the Snifit royal visit.

  
The winter sun was hanging above the horizon like a cold, yellow fruit when dinnertime arrived. Luigi knew he’d have to be fashionably late in order to pull this off, and so it wasn’t until he heard the butler ring the dinner gong that he began descending from the tower to the dining room. Fortunately, the maids and footmen were otherwise occupied with serving dinner, allowing Luigi to enter the dining room unnoticed.

  
The person who stepped through the door was Princess Louise. She was a young, beautiful heiress dressed in a radiant, elegant dress, and pampered with the most delicate jewelry. Her face was done up with the soft glow of makeup, her hair manipulated into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Princess Louise was stunning, and also rich and available.

  
She glanced nonchalantly at her parents, as if they were nothing more than her subjects. Obviously they recognized her, but to denounce their child for crossdressing in front of Royal guests would be somewhat untoward and most definitely humiliating for pricks such as themselves. Mother’s jaw dropped right into her soup. Father choked on his glass of wine. Big brother Mario, heir to the throne and naturally their parents’ favorite, gripped his fork in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  
King and Queen Snifit were seated on the other end of the table. Their son sat at his father’s right hand, a cool battle scar crossing his face from eye to mouth. Louise decided immediately she would like to sit next to him.

  
“Oh!” King Snifit said, a little embarrassed. “I had no idea you had a daughter, your majesties. My apologies.”

  
“No need to apologize!” Louise answered for them, sliding into the seat beside their handsome son. “I am Princess Louise. Louise G. Brooklyn.”

  
“Charmed,” Said the Queen Snifit. “Why is it that we’ve never heard of you?”

  
Louise sighed and slumped melodramatically in her chair. “Oh, well, I suppose people tend not to mention me much.”

  
“I wonder why that is,” Mario grunted from down the table. His mother gave him a sharp elbow in the side.

  
Dinner continued uneventfully, despite the sharp glares Mario kept throwing across the table.

  
“Is your brother not fond of you?” Prince Snifit asked, just as the Butler brough round the main course.

  
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s always had a bit of an anger issue.” Louise took a big bite out of her Cheep Cheep fillet. “It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I rather like the sibling rivalry. I have so little to do around here; his constant harassment keeps me from growing bored.”

  
“I see. Don’t you have lessons? You know, learning other languages, learning to ride Yoshis, playing the harmonica and such? I imagine that would be enough to keep any princess occupied.”

  
“You see,” Louise sighed, taking a long sip from her wine, “I’ve learned it all. I’m fluent in all the languages and dialects of all six kingdoms; I am a champion Yoshi Rider (five-time gold medalist); and I’ve played more blue grass than I’d ever care to admit. So no, Prince Snifit, I’m not occupied. I’m rather just… waiting for my life to begin, for some dashing man to scoop me up and whisk me away!”

  
Prince Snifit gave her an affectionate, pitiful smile. “Please, just call me Fred.”

  
“Well, Fred,” Louise giggled flirtatiously. “Would you mind telling me how you got that…dashing scar?”

  
(From down the table, Mario, who was eavesdropping, spit out his water.)

  
Fred let out a self-conscious chuckle. “Oh, you don’t want to hear about that.”

  
“Oh, but I do!”

  
Convinced, Fred cleared his throat. “Very well. It all began two years ago when I battled the Koopa King for the freedom of our war prisoners. Our soldiers were trapped in a cage over a fiery pit of lava. It seemed impossible to rescue them! But then I thought of something no one else did…. A ladder! And then we—”  
Fred continued talking, and Louise all but zoned out. In truth, she had no real interest in the Snifit prince, but she liked to see how far she could go, how many buttons she could push before the ruse was up. Though his story was uninteresting, Louise imagined what the Koopa King might look like. He sounded hot.  
“And then we made it out alive! But one of the koopas gave me a nasty slash on the face. It’s why I have to wear this mask.”

  
“Don’t all snifits wear that mask?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Oh, Fred!” Louise cried randomly, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m so upset! I have a dowry of one thousand sheep and ten golden mushrooms, but no one has come to court me! What should I do?!”

  
A little huff escaped Fred. “Why, then, I’ve a perfect idea! As I cannot ascend the throne without a proper wife, do you think you would like to be the Queen of the Snifits someday?”

  
Louise feigned a gasp of surprise. “Oh, YES! Mother, Father, Mario!”

  
Three heads snapped in unison to face Princess Louise. “Prince Snifit and I are to be married!”

  
While King and Queen Snifit clapped and cheered with joy, Father’s face twisted as if he had eaten something sour, and Mother promptly fainted. Mario stood up instantly, his chair toppling over behind him. “Princess Louise,” Mario seethed. His words hissed through his teeth. “May I see you in the parlor?”

  
Fred took Louise’s hand in his own. “Is something wrong, dear?”

  
“He just wants to congratulate me, nothing more,” She whispered in return, before planting a little kiss on his snifit nose.

  
In the hallway, Mario didn’t bother with the parlor and grabbed Louise by the collar of her dress.

  
“Luigi, what on Earth are you doing?! What is this?”

  
Scrambling out of his grasp, Louise smoothed out her dress. “I’m getting what’s owed to me.”

  
“What are you talking about? Getting married? He’ll find out in a couple of days who you really are—”

  
“—I’m not that dumb—”

  
“What’s wrong with your life here? Why do you always have to create problems for yourself?”

  
“I’m having fun!” Louise balked. “I’m tired of being meek little Luigi with no talents and no inheritance to speak of. I want to be someone else! Someone bold and romantic. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  
Mario laughed. “Good. Because I don’t.”

  
“Well?” Louise raised her hands in the air. “What do you want me to do? I have a one-way ticket out of here and I’m taking it.”

  
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Mario fumed. “You’re going upstairs. You’re going to change out of all this—whatever this is—and I’ll tell the Snifits that the shock was SO GREAT that you fell ill. And then tomorrow, you’ll tell Fred or whatever that you’ve changed your mind.”

  
“Why do you want me to be unhappy? Can’t you go along with it? Come on, they really see me as a princess.” Louise sank down against the wall. “It’s incredible. I feel like someone’s actually looking at me for once. I’m not just the ‘spare to the heir’ right now.”

  
Mario folded his arms against his chest. “Because you and I don’t get to live funny or happy lives. The weight of the kingdom rests on our shoulders—”

  
“Your shoulders. Not mine.”

  
“Look, Luigi,” Mario began. “Even you know a marriage arrangement takes time. Nothing is going to happen tonight. Do it for our parents. If the Snifits find out who you are, the whole treaty could blow!”

  
“What treaty?”

  
Mario gaped at her. “The treaty that will be signed after this dinner. The treaty that will determine the lives of millions of Toads.”

  
Suddenly the air felt thin. “Oh.”

  
Giving Louise a little shove on the back, Mario let out a tense sigh. “Go upstairs. Get cleaned up. I’ll tell them you’re ill.”

  
A little shell-shocked, Louise watched Mario reenter the dining room and started to make her way back to her chambers.

  
There are lines of tears cutting through the cakey makeup by the time she reached her room. They looked like rivers cutting through bedrock, tributaries collecting at her jawline. With a rag and bucket, Louise meticulously wiped away the makeup. With neither makeup nor a moustache, Louise looked adolescent again. The hair was combed through, the dress hidden, and the earrings returned to Mother’s room. Luigi’s reflection stared back at him through the mirror. He felt harrowed, gutted. Like someone scooped out his guts. He went to bed like that and dreamt of sinking.

  
And downstairs, Mario returned to dinner. “Please excuse Princess Louise. The news has shocked her so much that she’s fallen ill.”

  
“Such a shame,” King Snifit blubbered. “Anyway, I would still like to thank you all for throwing me such a marvelous birthday dinner. It really is so nice to go to a dinner without any politics or business to discuss. Nothing more than a celebration!”

  
Mario nodded and held up his champagne flute. “To you, your Majesty.”


	3. The Disposed Prince

Chapter III: The Disposed Prince

  
Once, my name was Fred. I was a simple child. I was a simple prince. I was ignorant to the six kingdoms, the tensions between them, the threat of war that held present in the air like a temperature.

  
My parents named  
me Fred, and I lived a happy childhood surrounded by my Snifit Kingdom  
retainers. Before I knew of Brooklyn, of Peach. Of broadswords and bows. Of  
scars and beautiful princesses--of Louise. Louise De Milo. The perfect woman,  
somehow bound to this earth, a refugee from the heavens. Milky skin, smooth as  
butter…

  
And I have not  
seen her in years.  
Simply, the  
Snifit Kingdom is no more. My parents, the King and Queen? Dead. The castle?  
Burned to the ground. I am a snifit on the run. I am the disposed prince.  
Birdo, the eccentric creature of the forest, is the only one who knows my  
secret. She has been generous enough to take in all of the refugee Snifits. I  
call myself Luca to conceal my identity, to prevent the evil Mario from finding  
me and punishing me for my affections for his sister…

  
I am in his  
castle. I am in Daisy’s castle. I am in a castle that changes allegiances  
daily. The princess of Sarasaland and the late Peach of the former Mushroom  
Kingdom’s best friend, versus Mario, the King of Brooklyn. Legend has it, he  
killed his own parents to ascend to the throne several years ago.

  
Birdo has sent me  
as a spy to the Mushroom Kingdom’s castle in the disputed territory. For so  
many years, Daisy and Mario have found each other so equally matched that their  
troops rarely bother to fight over actual borders. The competition is for  
resources, space in the grandiose castle once ruled by the radiant Peach…

  
I slip on my Shy  
Guy mask and walk through the door. Nobody is any the wiser. The hallways are  
repugnant, a mixture of a flower’s perfume and a hairy man’s sweat, lined with  
the dead or dying bodies of goombas, koopas, Shy Guys, the gunpowder smears of  
bob-ombs… the remnants of a war.

  
Oddly, faced with  
all of this carnage, the porcelain face of Louise comes to mind. I image her  
beauty against all of this carnage, her delicate fingers upon my arm… but I  
must cast away these thoughts, for I love Blooper, my beautiful husband, and no  
others.

  
I walk past a  
finely polished suit of armor, noticing for the first time my reflection as  
Luca, as a man in mask. I touch the spot on my face where the scar would’ve  
been in my Snifit mask. I remember how I got it, and I shiver with fury. I have  
never seen myself so naked although I am fully clothed. I feel my breath hitch  
back in my throat, ready to spit a lead ball at my hideous reflection, but I  
think of Blooper, of his eight arms holding me at night… I let my breath go  
without firing.

  
I can hear the clash of swords somewhere far above me—the sound of Mario and Daisy, battling again for the rule of the Mushroom Kingdom. I can almost see the shimmer of Birdo’s pink bow in the sunlight, so hoping that Daisy would finally defeat Mario, cut his head from his shoulders and throw it from the ramparts.  
…

  
“Prince Snifit, Princess Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom has been murdered.”

  
“What?! How could this happen!” I shout, looking up from a sketch of Louise I had just completed.

  
“Prince Bowser Jr., the son of King Bower, attempted to capture her, but somehow ended up killing her. Although the young prince claims it was an accident, the senate has reached an impasse.”

  
“What do you mean? When did this happen?” I asked, frantically pacing about the room. Suddenly I stopped, and looked out the window at the setting sun, the way it looked like a spilling of blood upon the horizon. “And what of Mario…?”

  
“I… cannot answer you, your highness. The Brooklyn Kingdom has not yet responded,” my young retainer, Snifit, replied. “As you know, the King and Queen of Brooklyn—”

  
“They’re dead. I know. Murder.”

“Your highness…”

  
“Go home to your family. Now.”

  
This was the last night I ever spent in the Snifit Kingdom. I ran. I abandoned my country. I could feel what was coming as though it was in my blood. I had to find Louise. I had to find the answers.

  
\--theuncouthcreation


	4. Interstitial: From Luigi to Bowser

His Princess May Be In Another Castle, But My King Is Right Here  
(Author’s Note: This Poem Was Inspired By “BOWSER + LUIGI ARE IN LOVE SO JUST TRY AND STOP ME, N*NTENDO /spaacee--hiimboo)  
If my heart is a hotel  
Let it be haunted by you, the one guest who never leaves.  
From the penthouse, let’s

Watch two green moons  
Orbit our red planet, the way it casts only  
Shadow, the eclipse bearing witness,

The spikes that define you like mountains,  
Oceans of banded muscle  
And a toothy grin

Like continental drift,  
Magma in your throat.  
And for that warm breath I’d forsake

The red planet like a flower in flame,  
leave us floating  
in the toadstool zodiac  
spread across a sky full  
of stars like dry bones


	5. Chapter I

I

  
Luigi visits the dungeon infrequently.

  
For good reason, too: it is dank and dark. The whip and crack of the torches lining the hallways harmonizes with iron bars, groaning with rust and age; the hums and groans of the wind as it pounds on the bedrock walls; and sometimes, a forlorn cry, a wail, a scream. (He is fairly certain that, within these winding passages, there is a room dedicated to the most heinous acts of torture, but he cannot bear to find it, cannot bear to ask.)  
It smells, too. Blood and rust have a similar iron-like twang, but Luigi knows the difference, can smell them both distinctly, hovering faintly between the stench of foul food and mildew.

  
And it is cold in the dungeon, the kind of cold that freezes the very marrow of bones, the beating blood in veins, the thoughts in the mind.  
Luigi can see his breath as he descends the stairs, torch in hand. The fire offers light but no heat. He has never been brave, but he steels himself, now, musters a nebulous whorl of courage and hopes it can fill him enough to walk the length of the dungeon. His every muscle seems to spasm beneath his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He knows—God, he knows—he shouldn’t be here. Forbidden, prohibited (maybe treasonous?). Something crunches under his boots and he doesn’t look down, doesn’t want to know what it might be.

  
The end of the hallway is reached and a large, secure cell spreads out before him, illuminated only by the ghost of his torch. Luigi keeps his distance. Behind the iron bars there is a large—no, massive—figure hidden in the shadows.

  
A growl. A shift. Overgrown claws scratch against the floor and sparks burst forth in the dark. A deep, guttural growl echoes in the quiet.  
Luigi’s mouth feels like cotton. He swallows thickly. Maybe, he thinks, this was a mistake; maybe, he thinks again, I can still go back.

  
The figure stands and lumbers towards the iron-bar barrier separating them. His courage hides somewhere—in his guts, his liver, the base of his lungs—and emerges for just long enough to prompt Luigi’s body forward, to the cell.

  
The torch reveals a hardened face, and narrow, brown, beastly eyes that go back, far back into Luigi’s own. Red hair matted down with blood.  
Bowser doesn’t say anything. He can’t. There is a metal muzzle over his nose and mouth, fixed inside with explosives. (It’s insurance. If Bowser breathed fire—well—well, his face and throat and lungs would go up in flames.) It comes off only when he eats, with a guard’s sword pressed firmly to his throat. Behind his backs, his hands are fastened with shackles.

  
They stare each other down.

  
“Hi,” is all Luigi can manage. Bowser’s eyes narrow on him like pins and needles. “Mario doesn’t know I’m here.”

  
Bowser closes his eyes and Luigi notices then how weak he truly is. Muscles that were once taught and broad are now gone beneath sagging, weak skin. There is a bloodshot fatigue in his eyes and his body—now untensed—seems to buckle under the weight of his shell. His face looks as if it had been cut from limestone.

  
Luigi remembers suddenly the reason he came down here in the first place. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he fishes around for something—finds it, and closes it in a fist.

  
“It’s a glass pebble,” Luigi says, extending his hand and opening it. In his palm rests a small, green glass pebble, no bigger in circumference than a coin. “I know it’s not much, but the guards will never notice it.” A pause, and Luigi reaches his lithe hand through the bars and drops the pebble on the other side. “It’s something…” The words don’t come easily. “Something that can belong to you.”

  
Luigi flushes red, a little embarrassed. Bowser doesn’t need meaning or gestures explained to him. Alone with his thoughts for two years now, he has had plenty of time to contemplate meaning. Ownership. Personhood.

  
There is nothing that can be said, no response or reply, no return. And so Luigi nods his head and returns down the hallway, hurrying, hurrying, as if running away from his own shadow.


	6. Chapter II

II

  
It’s another week before Luigi finds the opportunity to visit Bowser again. The descent into the dungeon is a hair easier this time, and he wears a cloak to ward off the cold. He doesn’t want to imagine how cold Bowser must be, breathing endlessly into the muzzle, unable to even huddle within the warmth of his own arms.

  
There’s a nagging in the base of his skull, urging him to bring Bowser a blanket; but if the guards saw it during their rounds, there’s no telling what they’d do.  
When he arrives at the cell, Bowser’s shape is curled into the far right-hand corner. He looks so small.

  
Luigi clears his throat. “Today was the first snow of the season,” he manages. Luigi was never a great conversationalist--the weather is the best he can offer.  
“It wasn’t a lot of snow,” he continues. “The Mushroom Kingdom almost looks like it’s covered in a layer of powdered sugar.”

  
From the shadowy corners of the cell, Bowser shifts, and Luigi’s heart jumps into his throat. There is a sound of scratching--then friction--and the green glass pebble comes spinning across the floor and stops at Luigi’s boots.

  
Bowser doesn’t move again. Though it’s possible he’s fallen asleep, Luigi somehow doubts it, knows he’s always listening, always thinking. Plotting? What is there left to plot? The Koopa Kingdom is no more, a vague assembly of occupied territories. There isn’t even a memorial in his honor.

  
The pebble returns to his pocket, and Luigi finds his way back to the surface.


	7. Chapter III

III

  
Breakfast. Luigi pokes unhappily at his eggs. Mario is on his third cup of coffee, face buried in a newspaper. The Toad Times.

  
“What does Bowser eat in the dungeon?”

  
If the question catches Mario off guard, he doesn’t show it. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask Captain Snifit.”

  
“Oh.” Captain Snifit is a scary man. Luigi probably won’t ask him.

  
“He certainly doesn’t get a personal chef, that’s for sure,” Mario says, unprompted, and chuckles. “It’s probably leftover garbage that the Yoshis don’t eat in the stables.

  
A sickness drops into Luigi’s stomach. His breakfast has gone from unappetizing to appaling. “Oh,” he says again, dumbly. “Won’t that make him sick?”

  
“That’s kind of the point, little bro.” There’s a layer of exasperation under Mario’s words that only Luigi is attuned to. “It’s only fair, after what happened to Peach.”

  
“Why not just kill him? An eye for an eye?”

  
Mario folds the newspaper and takes a long swig of coffee. “Because death will never be a good enough punishment.”


	8. Chapter IV

IV  
The glass pebble stays in Luigi’s pocket.

He’s in a meeting with Mario, Toadsworth, and a few other nameless dignitaries when he realizes something. While they drone on and on about subduing rebel groups and implementing restrictions on cross-Kingdom travel (all of which Luigi is vehemently against, but no one’s ever asked his opinion), he finds the pebble in his pocket and runs his thumb over the edge--and stops. 

Runs his thumb again. 

The pebble isn’t smooth anymore. There is a jagged ridge, and Luigi has to be careful so as to not cut his thumb on it. 

When he notices Mario looking at him inquisitively from across the table, he quickly steels his expression into indifference. And feels around for the pebble again. It is an unmistakable gouge in the glass. 

And more than that--more than that--it feels purposeful. 

“Our best hope is to cut Sarasaland out of our trade routes.” Toadsworth declares. He gestures to a map on the table where red lines and dotted paths cover the land like worms. “Seventy percent of all cargo that goes through there is raided by bandits. We deliver goods to Sarasaland at a loss.”

“I see,” answers Mario. Contemplative, but not remorseful. “Well, do what you must.”

“That’s Daisy’s kingdom,” Luigi finds himself saying aloud. The room falls into silence. Heat creeps up his neck. 

“Yes,” Mairo deadpans. 

“Their crops were decimated in the war,” Luigi explains, though he knows full well that he is repeating common knowledge. “And winter is already here. They’ll never survive.” 

“I shouldn’t have to explain to you that we also suffered losses in the war. Losses that put our subjects at risk.” Mario’s voice is calm and low. It’s unnerving. “While I care deeply for Daisy and her kingdom, we have to look out for ourselves first.”

There is a pregnant silence. It would be foolish to speak up again, not in front of these important people whose heavy pockets, lined with investment, guarantee his meals and safety. And so he thinks of Daisy all day, her kingdom hungry and weak, ravaged by sickness and violence. He considers writing a letter to her--

But what could he possibly say? What kind of “I’m sorry” would make up for what is about to happen to her and her people? He lies in bed, memorizing the ridge in the glass pebble.


	9. Chapter V

V

He wakes up drunk, at the bottom of the shower. Lambrusco on his lips. Garlic, tomato on his tongue. For a moment, he considers his preference for pesto. Pine, basil. Only on his birthday. 

Today is Mario’s birthday. Sounds of singing echo in his skull. Vocalizations. Wine. Words that come from the gut, pats on the back, brotherhood. Fratello. 

The shower feels like

millions of kisses

droplets on his lips. He has been kissed twice in his life. Once, to see what it felt like. Twice, to prove something he can’t quite remember right now.

He looks at his calves. They are long. Ill-defined. Sad calves. A laugh escapes him. He thinks of young cows, sad. Doomed to an eternity of milking or a sooner fate at the butcher’s block. 

Ruthless. Maybe he should be vegetarian? Live on pasta pesto alone? It could be done, it could be done. 

What would it--

Suddenly he is holding a bar of soap. He digs his nails into it, little half moon indents forming in their carotin wake. 

What would it be--

The water is hot, thanks to modern plumbing. Luigi is warm, so warm. Steam rises beyond the curtain like fog over a summer lake. 

What would it be like?

Don’t think those things, come on, Luigi, d̵̡̨̛̛̛̰̜̮̹̥̼͓͓̝̣͍̠̘̞͖̻̟͛̄͗̍̃̑̑͛̓̾͑͐̈́̓̽̊̔̏͌̔͌̆̂̿̎̆͌̃͊̉̿̋̔̂̄̀̄̔́̽̕͝ͅơ̴̡̧̨̟̯͉̤͓̜͖͓̥͔̲̤̲̯̺̗͉̬͉̹̰͇̩͖̖̹̼̳̣̣̦̂̓͆̑͒̊̈́̈́͛͋̇̇̊̿̕͜ͅn̷͈̰̰̬͎̬̖̪̠̝̼̭̮̩̩̜͖͎͇̳̜̔̊̉̓̽̒̽͌̐͋̌͋̀̊͘͜͜͠'̸̡̡̛̥̞̻̜̫͍͓̩̟͚̱̏͑̓͆̽̿̈́͗͂̄̐̇͆̌̽̋̅͊̍́͆̅̈͘͘͠͝ͅt̴̡̨̡̡̨̡̛͔͇̝̫̹͓̭̰͎̜͎̦̖͉̺̬̻̗̙̪͍̰̟̝͇͍̹̯̃̈́̄͌͋̏̏̾͘͠ ̵̢̧̨̢̛̛̱̺̺͇͚͉̮͔̙̮̩͚̩͙̙̖͓̰͚̫̖̖͚̠̥͎͎̻͈̫̞̣̻͚̺͕͍̾̆̊͆͛̀̈́͂̈̓̒̈́̌̀̇̾̾̌͗͑́͜͝͠ͅţ̷̨̬̳̟̙̘̥͈͇̥̬͇̦̫̞̮̳̼̟̲̒̍̊̂̔̊̋͗̈́̈́̏̃͊͌̓͐̓̆̑͋̂̈́̿̽̌̈́̒͛͆̑͋̀͐̆͗̍̚͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅḥ̷̡̢̡̡̖̣͍̬̣̭̖͖͔̤̮͚̙͔̝̜̠̞͙͍͈̬̯͙͚͔͔̮͈̬̼̼͙̘̫͉̖̹̯̋̆̑̋̾͐̋͋͜ͅͅȉ̸̧̛̛̛̠̜͍͙̫̯̬͓̑̃̐̽͑͛̒̍͒̍͆̑̒̃̒̊̑̿̒̈́̏̏̀̅̋͑̇̚̕͝͝͝ņ̵̛͈͍̹̻͕͇̬̠͖̩̹̟͕̳̝͖̼̥͔͔̟̬͇͍͕͕͙̱̖͛̾̈́͒̈́̓̊́̈́͂̀͛̃̆̄͑͐̌̎̈́̀͐͑̾̽͑̒̂͋̈́͊̀̓͋̾̈́̇̓͌̚͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅk̸̝͇̬̼̼̪̣̖̮͕̞͇̈́͆̿̎̒͐̑̆̂͐̏̆̓͋͊̇͝͝ͅͅ ̸̛̺̗̠͎̬͓̮͇̜̟̯̖̖͑͋̾̎̄̋̂̎͂̓͊̐̈́͆̂̾͋̆̋́́̚͘͠͝t̶̜̪̠̮̠͖̩̽̒̆̔́̌̄͋́͌̔͋͒̇̍̚̚͜͠͝h̵̡̦̞̻͉̻͙̘̦͍̬̩̭͊̃͝͝ͅo̷̧̧̨̡̯̞͔̳̲̙̯͙̙̠̳̙̠̲͍̬͈̤̞̠̱̥͎̼̖̘̲͖͕̳̘̖͖͕̮̭͈̗͔͇̰͖̜͛͑̚͜͜ͅs̵̯̪̻̥̺̲̞͙͚͚̲͕̹͔͉̭̯̩̥̰̞̯̭͙̟̥̹͉̝͇̟̫̰̰̺̱̬̬̗̙̈̈́̌̔̂͜e̷̛̱̰̻̻͉̺̩̦̘̼͔͚͖̮̳̗͍̥̫͖̻̠͈̹͛̽̈́̑̒̌͑̍̋́̊̃̐̏̎̏̈́͂̓̍͛͂̇̊͑̑͂̊̈́̃͋͐́̃͛̎̈͑͘̚̚̕͜͠͠͝͝͠͝ ̶̢̡̡̧̧̧̧̧̻̤͎̝̭̱̝̼̹͇̪̝̺͖̰̬͖͚̮͙͉͚̯̣̝͓̳̤̟͇̟̺͈̪̦̺̒̏̍̈̏̾̆̐̊͐̿̊͒͐̑͐͒̀͗̆̇̓̈́̈́͗̓̑͋͒̐͊͛̽̀̎̃͋̕͘̚̚̚͠͝͝t̵̳̗̠͇̱͇̟̪̺͉̙̎̑̒͂͂̒͆̆͂̌̉͘̕͝͠͝ȟ̴̢̢̛͙͓̹̭͎͕̟̝̱̳͈̫̠̥̘̭̬̙̱̝̭̗̳͖̳̂͌͌̐̏̍̇̾̈́͛̏̇͒̓̊͝͝͝͝ͅį̶̛̹̭̰̭͔̠͓̯̭̭̳͎͇̮̮̥̤̙̠͖̹̝̻͓̮̗̲̜̣̰̲̜̗̻̃͂̏̋̿͛̒̏̿̊̀͗̌̓̊̍̓̈̂͌͒͊̄͂͘͘͜͜͝n̷̡̡̨͉̘͈͚̞̪̙̮̱̻̫̦̭̭͚̟̣̙̳̠̪͙̣̲̫̹̄̈́͋̽͌̋̂̔̉͒̋̇̋̉̀̈̃͆͐̌̂̈́̓͊̾̈́̚̕͘̕g̴̢̧̨̨̡̧̢̘͇̱̭͚͙̲͕͈͙̥̗͖̪̳̞̠̖̯̩̖̼̦̥͈̹̥͍̫̤͈̺̹̦̲̲͕͇͙̔͐̍̃̿̆̌͗̏̎͗͜͠s̵̨̨̢͓̞̥̱̠̪̱͔̹̰̹̙͙͇̭̰̠̬͈̥̻͙͉̙̙͈̫͈͙̥͍̘̺͖͇̮̝̳̠͈̠̜͖̙͈̙̘̘̻͛̇͋͂̃́͐̎̎̿͂̊̏̓͂̃͐͘͝ͅ

Don’t feel it, don’t wonder

How cold it is

i̷̩̟͕̫͋̾͆̍̚ň̶̢̩̘̂͛̏̑̈́̓̂̓̐̋̾̉̽́̓̌͒͛͒̾͌̓͝͠͝ͅ ̶̨̡̛͎͈̳͈̞̝̘͗̎̾̆͛̆̑́̚͜͜ͅt̷̨̧̮͎̫̳̙̥̞̪̭̹͕̖̰̫̲͗̈́̾̈́̈́̏̈́̀̈́̋͋̃̊̈́̅̏̇̂̏͜͠ͅh̶̨̧̢̢̛̛̫̦̜̱̯̲̖̝̩̳͕̦̳̰̣̰̭͓̰͍͎̾̋͆͂̆̈́̉̿̈́̆͂̊͂͊̔͆́́̿̈́̚͘͘͝͝ͅe̷̛̛͕̲̹͎͙̰̱͖͌̄͋̏̾̉̀̾͑̌͑͐̍̈́͂̀̕ ̴̰̳̤̱̜͉̲̟͔̱̠͐͝d̶̢̡̢̧̧͍̺͉͚̙̺̠̟̪̺̗̫̣͎͍̮̃͌͋̿̾̂̋̉͆̓͝͝ų̷̛͖͋̈́̿͌̇̄͌͑̐̾̎̅̓̒̑̀͗͑̿͛̇̒͋̿̑̀̿̌̐̚̕͝ͅn̴͈̣͐͆̂͐̌̅̈́̈̎̑̇̊͒̑̾̌̓̚̕͠͝g̴̛̬̟̖̃̾̍̂̏͛͒̅̆͐̽̐̽̅̊͆̽̚̚̕͝͝ę̵̨̧̛̛͎̱͖͖̹̖̼̹̲̠̣̺̝̠͒̍͋̈́̾̊̐̈͗̋̐̍̎̇̅̄̀͐̂͆͘̕͘͝͠͝͠͝õ̶̫̣͔̩̟̤̟̹͐͘ń̶̡͎̤̟̹͖

Don’t don’t don’t

Warm showers feel them like water hot water remember remember what he said  
Feel

The groove he knows he sees

He sees you maybe more and more than anyone else does like

A telescope focused on the stories the skies tell

d̶̨̛̛͓̪̘͇̫̭̟͉̝̣̼̻̺̝̰̠̮̽̿̃̆̈́̅̄̄͊̎̓̃͂̏̈̐͂̈́̑̐̌̑̇̃̉͛͑̓̃̏̚̚͘̕͠ͅͅǫ̷̨͈̮͖͎̟̱̳̣̙̣̖̗͚͎̙̪̥̬̇̔̃̌̿͛̊͗̾̏͂͒̽̉̋̾͐̃̇͐͛̈̾̿̏͗̋̍̄̈́̌̚͘̕̕͝͝͠͝͠ņ̷̨̨̡̧͇͇͓͎̮͍̠͍̻̩̼̘͉̱̜͈̘̠̰̻̭̻͚͖̙̗̻̱̩͇͔͓̜̝̮̬̗̳͇̺̈́́͛̋̈́̋̔̄̕̕̚͜͜͠'̴̡͖̰̹̻̹͔̳̟̥̫͈̖̯̰͖͇̣͚̖̐̇̑̽̈́̾̏̂̔̂̈̑͛̓̎̅̅́̾̑̊̂̚̚͠t̶̡̨̧̧̮̟̰͇̗͓͙͖̪͍̙̩̫̯͍̲̜̳̜̠͕̟̙̯͉̬̰͓͈̻͎͙̣̬̥͚͕̜̣̥͉̗͕͍̳̭̘̟̭̥̽͒̓̈̃̈́͊̏͐̈͐̅̍̎̾̄͊̾̓̋̽͐̀͌̓̆̎̌̍̈́̿͛̌̈́̒̽̽̈́̑̎̒͛̔̒̔̆̕͘͘͜͜͝͠ ̴̨̨̨̡̢̨̢̡̺̗̬͕͉͍̜̠͎̼͍͇̣͖͈̱͙͎̗̙͇͖͈̳͔͓͚̣̤̬͈̥͇̩͎̜̰̟̜͈̖̹̼̉̐͌̒̿͒̈́̈̏̾̑̏̒̀͌͊̅͑͌͑̽̑̏̔̂̓̈́̎̔̀͒͒͒̊͘͜͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅd̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̧̛̠̩̟̼͇̻̥̮͖͓̻̫̝͕̼̥̮̟̩̰̳̣̞̲̩͉̦͕̲̰͉̺͔͉̝̤͈̭̤͖͓͈͇̅̎̈̿͒̆͂̑̉̈̃͊̎̋̓͒͂̉̎̋̋̒́̎́̕̚͜͜͠͝ͅͅö̴̢̧̨̜͔͇͖͈̦̘̳͍̩̖̙̭̩̜̻̩̭̗̳͉̹́̒͑̓͊͌̿̇̑̿͐̽͗̌̾̾̂̐̽̏͊̋̑̂̎̔͛̏̃̿̍̏̄͂̏̍̐̽̚͝ņ̴̡̡̨̨̭̟̫̻̮̙̠̘̖͚̯̜̦̟̰̣͐̌̌̄̐̃̔̈́͊̑͒̈́̽̉̃̓͂̓̄̾͛̇͂̔͗͋̽͗̍̋̿͊̑̀͒̇̆̌̑͋͐͋̊̀̓͐̄͘̕͘͜͝͝͠͠͠͝'̸̧̧̡̡̨͓͚̝͔͓̜̲̬͉͕͕̯̥̭̱̼̹̤͙̰̙͈̙̙͙̼̘̬͖͕̦̥̝̥̞͍͍̣̹̗̰͚̜̞̮͇͍̺̘͈̼̿͛̈́̈́̌̂̒̓͌̎̒̅̎̅̂̆̅̋͘̕͜͜͜͝͝ṯ̴͇̰̬͕̻́̋͑̎̒̾̐̉̾́̑͐̀̎̈̔͗̑̂̌̅̊̽̈́͂͂̀̄͛̽̓͆̉̑̅̉͂̆̄̈́͂͋̓̂͒͌̈́̃͌̓̒͗̾̕͘͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̴̛̛͕͙̰̰̇̉̇̽̌͋͑̈́̓̌͊̇̆̊̐͊̐̏̆͒̾̅̎̂̄̏͂̾̈́̉̀̈̐̚̚͠͝͝͝d̵͍̺̊̈́͌̃̉̎̆͗̈́͌̉̎̌͂̑̓͊̽͑̇̑͘̚͝͝͠͝͝o̶̢̢̨̨̡̢͉͓̳̮̭̞̪̰̤͈͍̬̻͙̱̘̦͕̩̠̰̦̘̰̣̗͉̫̺͕̲̱̠̠͓̖̬̖̖̼͕͍̘͇̫̩͂̏͋͊͊̅̇̉̇͌̈́̈̍̓̓͛͘͘͜͝n̵̨̛̝̫͎͍̫̖͔̙͕̳̙̞̗͍͙̦̭͎̩̲͉͎̤̞͈̼͗͆̈́̈́̐̄̍͗̌̀̈́͂͒̾͗͊̆̌͌̏͒̃̌̇̈́̆̑͑̈́̈̄̓͂͐̆̒͘̚͝͝ͅ'̷̱̬̖̳̠̖̳̝̫͎̳̥̮͈͉̟̩̺̟͎̹̭̤͉̫̟͕̼̲͉̼̣̠͖͍̯̔̈́͑̂̃̐̉̒̚t̵̥̊̾͐̌̓͊͋̇̾

Sleep now the water off no memories of water

Think of land, groundedness, dry dry deserts and quakes of earth. 

When you wake up nothing will have changed. Nothing, nothing. 

Nothing.


	10. Birode Again!

I pat my hand on her sholder and said “no Daisey, you shouldn’t be going to the Mushroome Kingdome!” It was a chili morning.

She says, “Birdoe! That bastard Mario, he cut of the trade route to Sarasasaland, even tho he was knowing we had no food. I’m have people to feed! Refugeez. What would you have me done about it?”

I could tell she is serious bcuz her eyes were serious like she had something really important she is thinking about. She looking so pretty riding on a magik koopa broom in her big puffy orange dress that looked like an organge (the fruit). She crying, and her tears made her make up run down her face like a stampede of yo shes (no I’m not dated a yoshe im lesbia ne ew!)

“Bordo! You hav 2 let her go! She has 2 sav tha kingdome from Mraio.” Said the magik koopa who wuz very old and very ugly like an organge except one that was very old and rotted.

“Yea, birdie! And u must help the exiled snifits in your enchanted forest vally!” said Daisy prettily with her voice.

Suden, a pokey poofed out of the sand! BTw, Sarassaland is in a dessert, so there is sanding everywhere lots of sand. It squiggled down the sand doom and is coming real close to Daisey so I shooted “Daisie looking out plz (I love you)” and shouted an egg from my snout hole at it bcuz it was scary. (I didn’t actually say ily bcuz she does not knowing I am a lebanon.)

“Birdon you mornone! I am a good pokey, donut be shooting me! Y r u here anyway don’t u have something to be doing in you’re valley?” the pokey yelled. The egg hits a yello Yoshi w a baby on its back and I laughing ahaha.

“It is okay, Birdo. Thank you for proctoring me.” Saying Daize. “What is it sir Pokey. Is it urgent?” I blushed bcuz Daisy saying my name and saying thank you to me even though I’m dumb (maybe she lickes me?) but Daisy is looking very panicked so I got sad and cried a little bit. Daisy looked very pretty tho in her gorgoes makeup. I wearing a really pretty ring that was big and diamond.

“Ill tide dings Princess Dasiy! The evil Mrario has declaring war on Sarsland! We r in a lot of danger. You must flea to Birdo valley even tho she is a mornoen!” the pokey saying. Daisy gaspe and narrowed her very nice eyebrows. They are like very pretty birds with feathers and stuf.

“No.” she said.

“Wat do u mean princess! Did u not hear hime??” the magiccoopa croaking. I thought yes Dasiy u shood come 2 my vally so we can maybe going on a date and holding hands maybe hehe?

“No I cannot be doing that. Especially not now.” She resplonded. “Bring me my broadsword”

“No Daisei! U can’t fight Mario like that I donut want u 2 get hurting!” I shooted.

“Birdoe, I am sorey, but I have to go to fighting the evil king. Specially bcuz he let my bff Princess Pitch get killed.” She turned away. “Magikoopa, u should keep ur broom. Run please to be asking Flutter to fly my to Mushroome Castle to fighting Marioe.”

“But Daisy… I do not want u to die.” I say. The Pokie ran bake up the sand dune and digging into the sand. It was v drama ticks.

“Bird, I promising you I will not dying like Peach. So u will be able to make shure, I will giving u my magic transport wand so u can come watching me fight Marioh if u want to instantly.” She say. I was crying real big tears now and sucking in lots of air thru my snout hole so daisy dress was blowing in the wind and her long hair was blow longly in the wind.

I heard Flutter roar on the hore eyes son so I new Dasiey had to be leaving soon. Daisy gav me her wand.

“U look very pretty” Daisey saying (not really I imogened it. But my I did look bery pretty bcuz my bow today was big and blue and had pictures of Dorrie on it. Dorry sometimes visits my vally on the river but she hasn’t being around recently so I missing her so I put her piture on my bow.”)  
-xxnocturnemeadowxx-

AN: wowee hope u liking this so far! Will see wat happening to Daisy and Birdoe! Is Dasiy l e s bi ane 2? Or is she strait?


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